Making Love Out of Nothing at All
by Mandolin77
Summary: When I'm with you everything makes sense all of a sudden, all the pieces fall back to where they're supposed to be.  JazzxFrederic song-fic!


**I'm sorry, but I really do hate song-fics. They're the last refuge of the lazy and unimaginative; I mean, you don't even have to _write_ half the story, you just copy and paste lyrics. That being said... here's a song-fic! XD **

**Song: "Making Love Out of Nothing at All" by Air Supply**

**Warnings: It's written from Jazz's POV, isn't it_ required_ to be rated for language and themes? **

* * *

_I know just how to whisper,  
and I know just how to cry.  
I know just where to find the answers  
and I know just how to lie._

I've spent my life perfecting the façade I wear, trying to be that idyllic leader everyone wants me to be. I am everything I should be. Every word that comes out of my mouth is what the people want to hear, even the ones that aren't true. Even the ones that lead us to war or death or famine, even the ones that make it harder for us to win, make it harder for our children to live in peace with each other someday. But it doesn't matter what I say, as long as I say it right. As long as I become what they can't be. So they want me to weep and I weep, and then they want me to be strong and I am strong. I murmur words of sympathy, I shout words of encouragement, I hide the pain in my heart by punching the air with my fist. Just like they want me to. Just like I should.

_I know just how to fake it,  
and I know just how to scheme.  
I know just when to face the truth  
and then I know just when to dream._

The truth around here is ugly. The truth comes in the form of death-tolls and severed limbs, the number of newly-orphaned children, the blood and scarves and abandoned dolls we find as we ride into town. The dreams aren't so beautiful as they were when I started because it's not utopia we're hoping for anymore, it's survival. The dreams are still there, though. Different, but still there. Late at night, planning our next attack, our next reconnaissance, I stare into the darkness and dream and listen to you breathe while I cry. I dream of living together somewhere safe, where the kids you love so much can stay with us without fear. I dream of green and brown and red and _earth_, soil under my feet instead of rock, and I dream of you. I dream of you and I dream of me and I dream of the day when I can smile at you and mean it.

_And I know just where to touch you,  
and I know just what to prove.  
I know when to pull you closer  
and I know when to let you loose._

I climb in bed beside you, trying not to wake you even though I know I will anyway. You turn your face towards me, eyes still closed, and I tell myself it's the firelight that makes your skin so pale. I cup your chin gently with one hand, feeling sharp, fragile bone under my fingers, and kiss your lips. I love the way you taste, the way your move your mouth in time with mine, the way you sigh when I pull away instead of gasp. Then you wind your arms around my neck and pull me down with you, and I remind myself that it's you I'm fighting for. It's you I want a better world for. Then I press your body close to mine because I know that thought isn't going to make it easier to leave again in the morning.

_And I know the night is fading,  
and I know the time's gonna fly.  
And I'm never gonna tell you  
everything I gotta tell you,  
but I know I gotta give it a try._

Most nights I can't sleep and I just lay awake and watch you dozing, watch you, small and exposed, sprawled across my chest. I lay there thinking about all the things I need you to know, and sometimes when we're like that I'll whisper secrets to you I've never told a soul before. Sometimes I know you're still awake. I tell you how I'm living for you now, and tell you how much I miss you when I'm away; how I need to know that you missed me, too, because no one misses me anywhere else. I press a hand against your heart and tell you that sometimes I can feel my heartbeat slow down to match yours, and I tell you how I feel _whole_ when our bodies mesh like that. But the dawn always comes before I'm done, long before I'm done, and I always get that panicky feeling inside when I realize all the things you might not know. So I touch your forehead to mine and say "I love you," and hope you understand that when I say that I mean everything else, too.

_And I know the roads to riches,  
and I know the ways to fame.  
I know all the rules  
and then I know how to break 'em -  
I always know the name of the game._

It's one of those things I learned growing up: how to talk while you're moving your chess piece so that people don't even notice you're winning until it's over. Diplomacy runs on basically the same concept. You learn the rules, then you learn how to break them, and as long as you keep talking no one will notice the difference. They'll give you whatever they have, whatever you want - you can be rich, you can be powerful, you can be famous or infamous or anything in between, and I've been all of those; it's easy once you know what to say. There are times when I wonder if you'd still be here without those lies, if those thoughtless bluffs are the reason you're here at all.

_But I don't know how to leave you,  
And I'll never let you fall.  
And I don't know how you do it,  
making love out of nothing at all._

I'm no good for you. I realize that. I'm jealous and overbearing, frustrated, impatient, easily angered. I've slapped you more than once, but I still love you. I love you so much it hurts inside sometimes, and I know that if I really gave a damn about you I'd let you go. I'd let you live above ground, in the sunlight you've been missing. I'd unchain you from me, I'd stop dragging you around… I'd stop making you pick up the pieces every time I fall apart. But just when I've come to that conclusion, just when I'm standing up to walk away, you open your eyes and smile at me with that drowsy clumsiness that melts the ice in my heart, and you press your lips to mine in a way that burns my mouth as you breathe the words _I love you _into the kiss, and I break down and cry the way I only do in front of you. Then you hold me to your breast and I wonder where all that loving comes from when there's nothing here to love.

_Every time I see you all the rays of the sun  
are streaming through the waves in your hair,  
and every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes  
__like a spotlight._

I forget how beautiful you are, how proud I am that you're mine and no one else's. I'll start taking you for granted and then one day I'll see you on the other side of the bar, playing on that stupid piano that no but you can make sound good, and I won't recognize you. I'll walk over there to tell the man that this piano is _owned_ now, thanks very much, and it isn't until you turn your face up to mine and smile that I realize who it is that's playing. You don't even know how gorgeous you are, do you? I know you think I kiss you in public just to make you mad, but it's more than that. It's that animalistic side you like to tease me about, that need to prove to everyone - prove to _myself _- who you belong to.

_The beating of my heart is a drum and it's lost  
And it's looking for a rhythm like you.  
You can take the darkness from the pit of the night  
and turn into a beacon burning endlessly bright –  
__I've gotta follow it, 'cause everything I know,  
well it's nothing till I give it to you._

Where have all these things gotten me? Orphaned, disowned, two dead lovers and a dozen dead friends. But… it's different when I'm around you. When I'm with you everything makes sense all of a sudden, all the pieces fall back to where they're supposed to be. I don't understand it – I know I never will and I'm not entirely sure I would ever want to. It's one of those things that wasn't made to be understood. It's sort of like magic: when you laugh, the rest of the world outside goes silent. When you hold my hand under the table at dinner, I feel like I could bear the weight of the entire militia. When you kiss me, kiss away those heavy tears, I forget why I was crying to begin with. I forget _what on earth_ could be worth crying over when there is love out there, beside me, inside me, holding me and kissing me and offering to carry it all for a little while. So I give it to you, burden you, let you take everything of me that you want, everything that's worth having and some of the things that aren't. And when my life is in your small hands, it makes sense again.

_I can make the runner stumble,  
I can make the final block;  
And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle,  
I can make all the stadiums rock._

It's no secret that I can handle myself pretty well in a fight. I've run the Andantino Rebellion since I was nineteen, and for eight years we've done pretty damn well for ourselves. I was the one to bury Tenor, the one to throw that first shovel full of dirt over his too fresh grave, and ever since then it's been all me. I was the one to gain Crescendo's total support, the one to move our entire operation underground, the one to plan Salsa's rescue mission, the one to deliver Waltz's death blow. Falsetto is my second in command, but even she's not trained to be a general; I've never needed one. The weak die around here, and if you can't do it yourself you might as well not be alive to begin with. So instead of admitting that I am only one man, I try to be everything to everyone, try to be the strongest and the wisest and the fastest, because if I am everything I'm still not weak.

_I can make tonight forever,  
Or I can make it disappear by the dawn;  
And I can make you every promise that has ever been made,  
And I can make all your demons be gone._

Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me what you want me to be and I'll be it. When I come into the room late at night and you're sitting up in bed with the sheets tangled around you like maybe they could protect you from ghosts that won't go away, I hurt to see you like that. I know what those ghosts can do. They're scary, aren't they, those faceless things that haunt your nightmares like cobwebs in the back of your mind? You let me kiss you, let me return the many favors that I owe… but even as I hold you to me I can see the fear still there. It doesn't help. So instead let me just rock you in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you fall asleep again, and let me promise to do everything I can to help keep the monsters away. Let me stay awake and hold you and kiss you and cry with you, and let me carry you however I can. Let me be there for you, even if I can't do anything else.

_But I'm never gonna make it without you,  
do you really want to see me crawl?  
And I'm never gonna make it like you do,  
Making love out of nothing at all._

I can hear them whispering, and I know what they say. They're telling you that you should leave, get out, get out, get out. They're pointing to the bruise across your cheek and the broken bones in your hand and demanding to know why you're still here. They don't understand. They aren't there at three AM when I wake you up screaming, they don't see the way I come in blood-stained and tear-broken, they don't notice the lock of hair I carry crushed in one hand. They can't know what it feels like to come apart in your arms, to scream into your shoulder until my voice is so hoarse it hurts to breathe. They can't understand that feeling, that safety, that peace, when you bring me up into your lap and press your lips to both my eyelids until the blood stains your mouth like it does mine. And when you kiss me, soft and slow and deep, I don't care what they say because I know I need you and I know I always will. I've fucked up before and I promise you I'm gonna fuck up again, but please, god, don't leave me. I don't know what I would do without you. You are _everything _to me, and if you stay, if you try, I swear I'll give you every single part of me I have. Help me, turn me into something worth loving, make me see all those things you see, the beautiful way you see them. I love you. Believe me when I say that, because it's true. I do. And maybe, someday, I'll be worth loving back.


End file.
